The White Lion of Castamere
by Vox Mars
Summary: Jaime Lannister's life follows a different path after Tywin successfully lobbies Robert to remove him from the Kingsguard.
1. Chapter I-I

The White Lion of Castamere

Chapter I: Exile and Arrival

I. Blurs

It was a blur.

From Kingsguard to Kingslayer, everything in his life could not have prepared him for that day in the throne room. That was the last day he had thought clearly in a long time.

It amused him that in the passing colors and words, there was not a single thank you, not a single affirmation from any of those who were allowed to live because he had acted. Instead, there were looks of disapproval, sneers, all molding together in his lucid memory. The worst of all, however, hovered above the rest. That damned, solemn face of Stark staring at him when he entered the room, passing judgement before the case could be heard. That smug self-satisfied-

"Lord Jaime?"

The question dragged the blurs forward, accelerating them. First it was Cersei's tears, father's embarrassment, Robert's laughter. It was the long and lonely trip away from King's Landing, to the familiar mountains of the West. It was the falling blacks and reds giving way to yellows. All the way through the colors, to this moment, now, in front of the cracked and wrinkly, sun-dried prune of a man in front of him.

His toothy smile seemed to mock him just as much as Ned Stark's perpetual scowl; it was as if this man was in on a joke only told behind Jaime's back- and he could easily enough guess what joke that was. He had heard the names, mostly whispered as he was exiting rooms. Only Robert, clothed in victory, had the audacity to openly mock him, "Kingslayer!" Though Jaime doubted how long the insult would remain behind his back...

"Lord Jaime, we need to review the accounts and affairs."

"Don't allow me to stop you." Jaime responded to the maester, sighing. His thoughts kept drifting to Cersei, but he had to fight them. He knew that if he thought of her, he would think of what the new king was doing with her.

"Would you like to read the review I have in front of you or-"

"You read it." Jaime interrupted. "I am tired from my journey."

Creycis smiled, as if he were in on that joke as well, "Of course, my lord. As Lord of Castamere, your domain stretches along the coast."

"A domain of ruin." Jaime kicked his boots up on the wooden table. He had not changed from his Kingsguard coat and clothing- he saw no real reason too. It was tailored for him and was fairly comfortable, though it would no longer be under that suit of armor any more, he supposed.

"While it is true that the countryside has not exactly recovered from the rebellion, there is still much wealth in these lands, Lord Jaime. But I am getting ahead of myself, may I continue?"

Jaime waived his hand, leaning back in the chair.

"There are three main fortifications, two of which are mostly in ruin. Tarbeck Hall and Castamere have not seen repairs, while Castle Cubeck still stands."

"Obviously." Jaime responded. They were, after all, in the great hall of Castle Cubeck.

Creycis nodded, "Cubeck is a fine castle, and I think it will serve you well. Now, to the villages. While there are several villages scattered across the countryside, I have thought it best to group the various villages together for the purposes of taxation and levies. You will notice in your copy of the ledger they are simply referred to as 'countryside.' While it is no Lannisport, the village of Pickhill is the largest settlement in these lands by far, producing nearly a third of Castamere's taxes and levies. Pickhill also features a small, maritime port, that occasionally will house a portion of the Lannister fleet if necessary. There is a small royal tariff collected at Pickhill's port, but a tax collector from King's Landing will handle that. Currently, there is a small local tariff on the port as well; but we can discuss that at a later point. The burghers of Pickhill have a tradition of self-taxation that you may not be familiar with. Instead of a roof or hearth tax for Pickhill, they wish to pay a monthly sum of their own account. I would recommend your lordship does not change their practice, they will do the work of collecting the taxes, and any disagreements would be settled amongst themselves."

Jaime was too busy staring at a piece of artwork- it was amazing that any art depicting the Castameres was left in these lands- but there it was. Roger Reyne was immediately identifiable due to his crimson red armor, but it seemed as if the extended family was present as well. Honestly, Jaime didn't even know who half the people depicted were, but he assumed they were all Reynes. It was far better to look at them than see the faces of Ned Stark or Robert Baratheon. "Uh huh, of course."

"I will send a raven to Pickhill tonight. Now, while there are a few farms and mills in your lands, the old mill tax has been dormant since the rebellion. That being said, a revival of the mill tax while forgiving the accumulated debt for the dormant period would be a source of revenue and also perhaps endearing to the countryside."

Jaime realized the silence meant Creycis was waiting on him. "Make it so, Creycis."

"Good, my lord. We can move the grain and foodstuffs we receive from those taxes to Pickhill and Lannisport at a cheaper price. I would also think it would be prudent to store some of the food in case of Winter. Remember the words of House Stark-"

"Creycis, if you mention that House in my presence again I'll make sure that you're sent to the Wall so you can be closer to them." Ned's Stark face was all Jaime could see, a judgmental blur.

"Apologies, my lord." Creycis' damn smile returned quickly enough though, "Your father's letter, as you know, expects a timely tax from these lands upon reasonable request. The issue is 'timely' and 'reasonable' are not really defined in his letter," more blurs, Jaime thought,

"and we therefore need to be prepared at any time for a request from our liege. I think it prudent to have golden dragons- er, stags, on hand here in the castle."

To that Jaime perked up somewhat, "We would require a standing levy to defend Cubeck if we store gold here."

"Exactly, my lord. I thought you would be more interested in their training and recruitment. However, such a force would also require more funds which leads me to my final point. The mines underneath Castamere."

"They are exhausted." Jaime replied, being all too familiar with the story of the Reynes.

"It is true that the veins underneath the castle were converted into a subterranean castle for House Reyne. Though flooded, I was able to send a mining group in through an alternative cavern, and they believe there are more gold deposits under Castamere. To drain and expand the mines would be a small price to pay, and would not only fund a standing levy, but would make the Lord of Castamere a wealthy man."

"Do you think I lack wealth, Maester Creycis?"

"No, of course not," Creycis chuckled, "but there is a small difference between your own wealth and the wealth of House Lannister. It could enable you a degree of independence from Casterly Rock."

If he was to be in exile, at least it could be a comfortable exile. "Do it. No more of this Creycis, I grow tired." Thoughts of Cersei in another man's arms could not be kept at bay for long. It was physically exhausting to even combat them from entering his mind.

"Ah of course, just one more thing. I mentioned the local tariff on the port of Pickhill- I believe that it would be prudent to abolish it. There is a Dornish knight, Ser Garin, who has inherited a large amount of Dornish Red. He has sent ravens out to many port towns, requesting aid to transport his wine for sale. If we abolish the tariff, and Ser Garin's shipments are successfully received and sold in Pickhill and beyond, we could establish Castamere as a minor maritime-"

"Enough, Creycis." Jaime rose, and Creycis did likewise, though he was slowed by age. "If it gets you to stop talking, do it. I am retiring for the night."

Before the old man could respond, Jaime had already turned and made his way out of the room.

X

Night time at Castle Cubeck was the loneliest sleep of Jaime's young life.

All their plans had turned to ash: they thought they would be together in King's Landing, but now they were on opposite sides of Westeros. Not only was their distance between them, but another man was now between her legs, and the thought of that alone was probably going to keep him up all night.

Not only was Cersei gone, but Tyrion, Barristan, even his father was absent. He knew that the moment Tywin had secured his release that he was to be isolated and alone.

Was this a hero's reward? Was this his thanks? Loneliness and scorn?

Throwing off the sheets, he made his way over to the window, and leaned his arms on the ledge to take in the cool night air. Though he scanned the countryside, eventually the hills and trees blended into the blurs once more.

He wrestled with the blurs: Cersei's naked form, moaning Robert's name, Ned Stark's stone face, Tywin's disgust. They circled his vision, all taunting him in their own way. He backed away from the ledge, but they followed him into the room. "Kingslayer! Kingslayer!" He tried to think of anything else, but they had him now, alone in his room they were at the height of their power.

Eventually they all began to mold together, and the final image became more and more clear: darkness. From the depths of the maw that had formed out of all the blurs came only a voice,

"Burn them all."

When sleep finally did come, it was restless and short.


	2. Chapter I-II

The White Lion of Castamere

Chapter I: Exile and Arrival

II. Reception

JAIME

The next day at Castle Cubeck was a flurry of activity. Jaime could tell he had to abandon his attempt at sleep when the din of voices grew and multiplied. When the cacophony of shouts and hammering grew too much, he knew it was either wallow in bed or go accomplish something, though the wallowing did hold an appeal.

He was immediately greeted by that sun-dried prune when he made it to the great hall- itself undergoing renovations. Jaime did not remember approving that much less the construction that seemed to be going on throughout the castle.

Creycis sat with him as a serving girl brought out his breakfast, "A rather late breakfast." He observed. "I hope my lord was able to find comfort in his new home. If sleep is the problem, there are medicinal solutions."

Jaime didn't even have the energy for a response as he dug into whatever pig slop the kitchen could muster.

Creycis turned his bald head to look around them, "As you can tell, the castle requires some updates. They should be completely within a fortnight."

Jaime almost spit out his honeyed mead, "A fortnight?"

"I'm afraid some of the repairs are quite extensive. Castle Cubeck has not been occupied permanently since the rebellion, my lord."

"This is not going to be permanent."

"Long term, then." Creycis did not miss a beat, he gave the master credit. He continued eating the slop as Creycis droned on about the progress of the construction and what they had discussed the previous night. Jaime could only half-heartedly listen, as it seemed Creycis was talking merely to hear himself. Blah blah taxes blah blah tariffs. Was this what rulership was like? By the seven, Robert Baratheon would be tired of it within a day if anything he knew of the man was true.

Jaime turned to his left in the middle of Creycis' speech, and noticed the stone wall was bare. "Where did that go?"

"Beg your pardon, my lord?" Creycis asked, his bushy eyebrows furrowing.

"The painting. Where is it?"

"Ah yes, I believe its on a wagon to Pickhill, to be sold at the market. Now, you should prepare-"

"I want it back." Jaime said, taking another bite of the glorified pig feed. When Creycis did not respond Jaime looked up- he thought he caught a glance of something other than that stupid smile. Was it anger?

"Of course, lord Jaime." Creycis seemed to take a moment to collect himself, "As I was saying, Lord Jaime, you should prepare yourself, as several of the notables of your lands are coming to the Castle tonight to honor their liege. We have several sets of fresh clothes for you to choose from if you desire."

"No." Jaime said, drinking from the mead. Creycis did not bat an eye.

"Well then, let us review who is coming this evening. The burghers of Pickhill have selected a few among them to deliver their first tax; I doubt very much has to be discussed there. On the other hand, Lady Tia Bramhope and her husband Ser Sean Grogan will be coming- the same Lady Tia that was spared your father's wrath."

"I am surprised he did not execute her with the rest."

"While the Tarbecks and Reynes are gone, the Bramhopes did not fully participate in the rebellion, and as a result, Lady Tia's life was spared. She is a smart woman, and a charming guest, but I must caution you."

Jaime raised an eyebrow, "You have my interest, Creycis."

"Lady Tia very much would like to elevate her status, so to speak. It is an ambition that must be kept in mind while ruling Castamere." Creycis suggested, his smile waning somewhat.

Jaime did not respond again, but finished his breakfast.

"Ah yes, and finally, several local knights will be in attendance. I would suggest you select among them to become captain of the guard here at Cubeck. Ser Jasper, Ser Michael of the Broken Tooth, Ser Vallys- all great candidates."

"Did any of them fight in the war?"

Creycis's little beady eyes looked down to the left as he stroked his beard, "Well, no, my lord but they are all stout young men capable of creating a formidable levy."

"That's great, and I will call upon them if necessary." Jaime stood up, and Creycis did as well. "I want you to send a raven to King's Landing, and request that Ser Harden join me here immediately to command my guard… I also want a separate raven to see as to the well-being of my sister," Jaime paused, "and brother."

"Yes, Lord Jaime."

X

His ride into the countryside was all too short. He observed a small hamlet near the castle, though he did not know the name. Numbering only about seven houses visible from the ridge side, a small dirt road connected it with the dirt road at Cubeck.

Jaime preferred to stay away and watch as a peasant girl carried clothes from what he assumed was a nearby creek back to her house. The girl was joyous, singing the whole way, even with a bucket of clothes that was heavy enough to cause her to stop and dance around several times. She lived without the blurs, and she was happy. Before he realized it, he was grinning.

The former kingsguard traded hamlet-watching for a nap. He rode over to a small tree line, where he dismounted and found a quick rest in the shade of a rather large tree. His short respite was interrupted by a messenger from Cubeck, who awkwardly hovered over Jaime until he awoke, and informed him that the burghers of Pickhill were close. If only there were a sotmr or something to save the Lannister.

At Cubeck, a resigned Jaime splashed some water on his face before receiving the tax of the burghers; a process that went largely uneventful. Jaime merely stood there and nodded as Creycis and the burghers filled the air with more noise.

When Jaime entered the great hall to begin the feast in earnest, he noticed the painting of the Reynes was back in its former spot. Creycis was good for something, then.

The Lord Lannister had been at enough feasts to know he was ambivalent about them. When with Tyrion or enjoyable company, they were fun affairs. Without the right company, however, and they were miserable. His feast, fell more into the latter.

The petty nobles of Castamere were much like their lands- mostly gutted from the rebellion. They were simple people, with simple things. An old family dispute over an empty plot of land here, a problem with their peasantry there, nothing any of the nobility wanted to talk about held Jaime's attention longer than a minute.

The whole affair felt empty, that is, until the final guests arrived. Almost simultaneously, Lady Bramhope and a messenger from Casterly Rock showed up at the same time. Their arrival seemed to electrify the room, and certainly piqued Jaime's interest. The messenger seemed tired and welcomed an opportunity to eat and rest a moment before speaking with Jaime. The man insisted that he speak to Jaime alone, but the young Lord of Castamere told him he could wait.

Lady Tia Bramhope lightened up the room, her beauty- dark auburn hair, clear blue eyes- somehow had an inherent kindness. The way she looked and talked bespoke a warmth that made the other person feel like they had been friends with Tia for a while. At least, that's how Jaime felt.

"Lord Lannister, my, you certainly look as fierce as they say." Tia bowed, as Jaime kissed her outstretched hand.

"I don't think they say that about me." Jaime replied, as Ser Grogan bowed in the background. He seemed to understand his place in comparison to his wife.

"How could they not? I hear you stood in single combat with the Smiling Knight- and here you are!" Tia exclaimed.

Jaime smirked, "I did something else of note between now and then."

"You ended that horrific war, and we are all grateful more people did not have to die." Ser Grogan chimed in, himself a plan looking Westerman.

"Not that you were going off to fight any time soon." Tia playfully scolded.

Did they know? No, no, of course not. They were speaking generally. Still though, this was more the reception Jaime wanted. Creycis may be right about them, but at least Jaime could enjoy her company. Lady Bramhope and her amicable husband joined Jaime on the dais, as they discussed random topics about the lands of Castamere.

Their conversation lasted long enough that Jaime forgot the blurs, like he did with the peasant girl. He was thankful for that, at least. He learned of the small castle of Bramhope, and how the southern reaches of his new lands were just as bountiful as the northern parts, if given the proper attention and investment.

The other thing Jaime forgot was the messenger, who interrupted the conversation to speak in private. Jaime was in the middle of recounting Arthur Dayne's slaying of the Smiling Knight, and finished that story before he excused himself.

When they reached the outside battlements, Jaime realized he had had a few more drinks then he planned. He leaned against the cool castle wall as the messenger composed himself, seemingly nervous. "Go on, I don't have all night."

"Lord Kevan Lannister, your uncle-"

Was this man daft? "I know my own uncle."

"Uh, r-right. Lord Kevan instructed me to tell you that you might be in some sort of danger. He wants you to come to Casterly Rock immediately to ensure your safety."

"Danger?" Jaime stood up, "From who? Targaryen loyalists?"

"M'lord, I don't know, I was only to tell you the message."

Jaime stood there, frozen as the blurs began to try and attack his mind again. For a moment he thought he was going to be overwhelmed. Cersei, Robert, Ned Stark, Tywin, Aerys…

No, he would not flee, his honor had suffered enough damage. If he fled Castamere what would people think of him? From Kingslayer to coward. "Tell Kevan that I will not be recalled. But thank him for the information."

The messenger seemed confused, until Jaime repeated command, and then the man seemed to understand. The man excused himself and left the Lord Lannister alone out on the stone fortifications of Cubeck.

He looked up into the night sky, and wished Cersei was waiting for him in his bed.

XX

Special thanks to jaimefan and The Mikaelson Cupcake, appreciate the reviews!


	3. Chapter I-III

The White Lion of Castamere

Chapter I: Exile and Arrival

III: The Drowned Dead

ROGER

Roger had been a dockhand his entire life at the Pickhill docks, from boyhood to manhood. And all throughout that time, his favorite thing about dock work had never changed: a mug of ale afterwards at the Salty Maiden Inn. Even as a boy, the bartenders had allowed him at least one 'since he was doing hard work.' Old Horace especially always said he was proud of Roger. The Maiden was always rowdy and fun, with all the dock hands and people from lower Pickhill patroning it, making it always feel full; Roger liked being around people. He hated going out to visit his cousins in the countryside, it felt too empty. The Maiden was the best place in Pickhill, it was never empty. Old Horace had even let Roger live there for a small rent. Though the Maiden was home, he knew things were changing.

Earlier he heard as Edwin, the dock boss, told everyone to be ready for the Dornish shipment of wine coming, with something about a tariff from the new Lord of Castamere. Or maybe it was that there was no tariff? Roger wasn't really paying attention, he just knew that with a big shipment coming, and that meant he would have enough money to finally build a house near the outskirts of Pickhill- his very own house. The thought of having his own bed led him to a familiar thought as a bar wench came over to him,

"Ale and bread, Roger?"

"Where's Marcy?"

"By the seven, hello to you too, Roger. It's best to give up on her, you know that. She has fancy tastes, she'll need some knight to keep her happy. You'd be better off finding a real country girl." Allys was always meaner than Marcy.

"I hate the country." Roger grumbled, "I'm gonna have my own house soon, Allys, here in Pickhill."

"Oh, excuse me m'lord," Allys turned and yelled "Watch out everyone, looks like Lord Jaime came to the Maiden to have dinner tonight!"

Roger ignored the laughs, crossing his arms. "Allys, you're going to have to show me some more respect soon when I have my house. It'll do you good."

"By the father, whatever you say, Roger. I'll get you some ale, sounds like you need it." She walked away and Roger sighed knowing that Marcy wasn't going to be at the Maiden that night.

The laughter and yelling and mirth of the Maiden all seemed to stop all at once. Roger looked around, and saw everyone was looking at him. Allys even spilled the ale she was bringing for him. He was about ready to stand up when a voice from behind him emitted from the doorway,

"The Red Lion, he's going to kill... He's… alive... red lion..." Roger turned in time to see a man- dressed in clothes that had been torn to bits and bloodied, collapsed onto the floor of the Maiden, in a pool of his own blood.

On his back, sewn into the man's skin was a cloth with the sigil of House Reyne.

XX

Elijahlover, I plan on introducing a lot of the game of thrones characters- definitely Tyrion. Thanks for the review!


	4. Chapter I-IV

The White Lion of Castamere

Chapter I: Exile and Arrival

IV. Three Knights & A Tourney

JAIME

Steel clashing rung out in the courtyard. The roar of soldiers that accompanied it made the whole area unusually effervescent. Jaime had his sword raised, eyeing up the other three men who were likewise in a defensive position. It would be Sers Michael, Jasper, and Vallys, to go in that order. Perhaps switch Vallys and Jasper depending. But he was confident who would be out first- and he knew how.

Jaime shot the most provocable and obdurate member of the knightly trio a toothy smile, and he lowered his sword, and turned his back on the three, raising his hand and inciting the crowd, which responded with renewed hollers and yells. Despite the noise, he heard one of the three yell, "Michael!" and mailed footfalls grow closer.

Quickly sidestepping, he brought his blade in, then struck forward with his left leg and his right arm, driving the tip of his blade directly next to Michael's throat. Seemingly from nowhere, Jaime could hear Ser Harden yell 'out,' and Micahel threw down his blade in disgust.

There was no chance to gloat, as suddenly the other two were upon him- but after all that's why he led with his left, so his body would be open and not closed to their inevitable assault and that he would be prepared to defend. Jasper and Vallys were both a fair-deal more levelheaded than their compatriot, though they had their own differing styles. Jasper was a more traditional, powerful, and frontal attacker, meaning he was harder to handle straight on, but, any assault on his flanks was a severe test of his defensive capabilities. Sadly for Jasper, they were fighting in an open courtyard and not a hallway. As for Vallys, he was probably the most accomplished duelist of the three, being a far more fluid swordsman.

What was important, was Vallys kept leading with his left foot, almost on a cadence. As steel clashing continued to ring out, Jaime realized that Vallys was trying to coordinate his strikes with Jasper, allowing the other man to wear Jaime down with sheer strength while Vallys made sure Jaime was constantly having to change his guard back and forth. The Lord of Castamere had to admit that the attack was successful in backing him up and keeping him on the defensive. What Vallys may have neglected in his fairly sound plan was that he was choreographing his next move ahead of time.

One, two one, two one, two one- and then Jaime struck quickly and suddenly, to the roar of the gathered soldiers. Vallys completely lost his footing, and also had a hard time blocking his lord's strike. The moment the Lannister had bought paid more, however, as he was now standing on Jasper's right side- the knight had actually still stepped forward while Jaime had shot to his right flank.

Surprise lit up Jasper's face, as Jaime flipped his blade and caught the cross-guard to drive the blade in a stabbing motion towards Jasper's throat a la Michael's moments before. Jasper knew the game was up and tossed his sword to the side- but Vallys recovered quickly, attempting a wide, sweeping diagonal slash from his left hip to his right shoulder. Jaime, recognizing he had slightly overextended himself, dropped his right hand from the grip and began to drive the pommel towards Vally's chest with his left hand, while he tried to use his right hand to catch Vally's right wrist.

He had to admit, the move was not only unorthodox, but incredibly risky to the point he could lose a finger or two on his right hand; but that did not stop him from trying.

When Jaime grasped Vally's wrist, both he and the other knight knew the contest was over- and the Lord of Castamere delivered the coup de grace by driving the pommel into Vally's chest plate and sending the knight flat on his back, met with the loudest roar yet.

Some of the soldiers looked despondent, he noticed; they had learned a great lesson in doubting his skill.

He raised his sword in the air, and the men began to cheer once more, as golden stags were changed hands. Jaime walked over and grabbed a soldier's crimson cloak, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Hey wait, he broke a sweat! That shouldn't count!" Someone yelled, causing laughter among those who probably were among the victorious gamblers. Jaime joined in, feeling lighter than usual. The afterglow of a good fight was similar to the feeling after sex with Cersei; soothing and peaceful.

The thought of him and Cersei together again brought up familiar feelings. In that moment he would fight has way to King's Landing if that were possible; actually, now that he thought about it…

"What exactly do you call that last move?"

The crowd of soldiers was lowly going back to resuming their drills, while the three knights were busy trying to reassemble their pride. That meant the voice had to belong to one man- Harden. The elder knight had been one of several that his father had knighted during the Reyne's Rebellion, and had served competently in his father's brief campaign during Robert's Rebellion. If Jaime had even heard of such a lowly knight, it meant he was good at warmaking. Age had rendered him bald, white-bearded, and fat, but there was still strength in his arms and a fire behind his brown eyes. "It's called the pommel-strike. It's a very popular maneuver in Essos, but you would know that if you were a more cultured man, Ser Harden."

The older knight chuckled, standing abreast his liege to examine the new round of drills begin, "I fight wars in Westeros, not the East, my lord."

"Not many of those going on, now a days." Jaime retorted, sheathing his blade and resting his left hand on top of the pommel.

"And we should be thankful for that. The last war was enough for my lifetime." Ser Harden said, his voice lowering as he did. The two stood their for a moment, Jaime's mind floating back to the throne room which now seemed like a different life. 'Burn them all!'

"Jaime?" Harden had a habit of dropping the 'lord', but the Lannister did not mind as long as that did not catch on with the rest of the soon-to-be soldiers.

"Ah, what, Ser Harden?"

"Should I write back that you are not attending?"

"Not attending what?"

"The tourney celebrating the marriage of your sister, the Queen, and King Robert Baratheon."

Jaime tightened his grip on his sword, "I did not know that was something to be celebrated."

Harden shrugged, "He's the king of the Seven Kingdoms, and we haven't had a good tourney since before the war." Itching his bearded chin, "I would say you don't go. I'm assuming that going back to that viper's nest so soon after your, er, departure, isn't smart. Your father might take that as an insult, and that's never a good thing."

"You are probably correct, Ser Harden."

"It's settled then. I'll send the raven."

"No," Jaime smiled, "What am I practicing swordplay here for? To wither away?" Harden shot him a look before he continued, "I just miss the smell of shit and piss that only King's landing can give you."

Ser Harden sighed, shaking his head. "Just when I thought you've learned the dangers of being fool-hardy; look at what happened to Ser Michael."

"Excellent point. I'll take those three 'sers' along with me for practice so they can teach me all about it along the way. Ready horses and supplies."

Jaime began to walk away before, "You can't just up and leave! The construction of the Pickhill road and walls has to be overseen, the taxes accounted for! You have a responsibility to your lands, and the people living here."

"Congratulations Ser Harden, you're the acting regent of Castamere. Keep this up and you might have a keep and young women to run that keep for you soon."

The older night harrumphed in reply.

XX

Jd: Yes, I plan on that sometime in the future; a character from the books and show.

Tom: Thank you for that correction, that's a slip-up.

Thanks DanyelN and Teri!

Albrie II: I plan on addressing that soon. Without trying to give away too much, I look at the situation similarly to how the heirs of kingdoms could also nominally be in charge of territories in the kingdom, a la the Prince of Wales, the Dauphin, etc. Hope that helps.


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